Dreaming

“Ah, demons, is it?” exclaimed the boy, in his high, reedy voice. “And what of your own?  Are they not encouraging you to luxuriate in self reproach?”
“Luxuriate!”
“To be sure.  When we blame ourselves, we feel no one else has a right to blame us.  What a luxury that is!”  from the Strange Affair of Spring Heeled Jack by Mark Hodder

My dreams are strange.  I dream of plumbing problems, of someone calling for me to come and help them, I have nothing to offer, it isn’t my problem.  Alarm bells go off.  I dream of going to Australia.  Why Australia.  I do not know.

I dream of the future people telling me that I will invent important things.  And something called compartmentalized barrier breakers.  High walls around beach front homes protecting them from crashing ocean waves.  A thing of my own invention.  Boxes of walls that stop the waves by creating a deep tidal pool to hold the water.  Plexiglass like porches where people have tea sandwiches in the grey skies while the ocean laps softly on its edges.  I dream this dream again and again.  I cannot stop thinking about these compartmentalized barrier walls.  You invented it they tell me, you have to make your move, you have to get to work on it.  I am not an inventor, I am a dreamer.  I have no idea of the physics or the engineering of it.  But in my dreams it works, and people live on the margins of an increasingly violent ocean.

I wake pensive, and contemplative.

My horoscope says, keep a dream journal.

I am in fact tired of writing about my past.  I am ready for this future, filled with disasters.

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